Chemical Lawns

by

James Bredin

Shiny ice-laden branches of the birch tree up high,
White wavy writing glistening silver in the sky,
Sing a song of summer - soft, gentle, warm and free,
Not frozen white mounds of snow that lie beneath thee.

But instant April summer will soon thaw you free,
And soon after that find the flies, the bugs and the bees,
They’ll live up there in your branches and have a home,
Till the chemical guy comes with a spray can of foam.

Beautiful birch tree please don’t be downcast and sad,
They say it’s for your own good though I know they’re all mad,
Heaping herbicides and chemicals under your face,
Leaving little drab flags to display your disgrace.

Could be compared to a diagnosis of cancer,
So shine now in the sky, you wavy branch dancer,
But this is their kind-to-cancer month -- nothing underhand,
Chemicals may or may not kill you - so please understand.